Taking one more look, one more long, deep breath, he padded to the door and let himself out.
As he slipped up the stairs, he heard the Wiccans and Adam in the kitchen. By the smell, they were warming milk in the microwave. Their voices were low, but happy. They’d had a pleasant night.
He didn’t feel like facing his brother right now. How could he explain what had happened? His actions tonight had endangered the safety and health of the Pack Witch and, therefore, the pack. What kind of Alpha was he to put his own pleasure before his duty to pack?
Taking the rest of the stairs in one bound, he sped down the hallway, leapt up the final stairs and was through the door with barely a whisper of sound as it clicked softly closed at his back.
The curtain was open and moonlight shone, pale and milky, through the trees, glinting on the snow that made the limbs bow down under the heavy weight. Normally he would have been drawn to the window to look up at the simultaneous joy and curse of the moon. But tonight, his gaze halted on the ruin of his bed.
The scent of her warmth, the perfume of her skin, the musk of sex rose to greet him with memories he would never forget.
He might not have her here in his arms, waking beside him in the morning as he wished, but he did have the memories of what had occurred. He wouldn’t give up those memories for anything or anyone. Despite endangering his pack, he wouldn’t be sorry for those hours of bliss here with Skye.
Not now he knew his mate.
But he couldn’t stay here, surrounded by her scent. It would drive him mad.
He unlocked the glass door that led out onto a balcony and stepped out.
A light misty fog enveloped him, full of the smell of wood smoke and eucalypts and the heavy, tangy scent of snow. He shivered as the cold curled around him, the snow crunching crisply under his bare feet, but it was a cold he needed to calm the burn of panic and self-recrimination in his chest. He closed the door behind him and let the change take him over, not caring that his clothes were ripped to shreds by the explosion of energy that tore through him.
Mid-change, he leapt over the balcony and landed a floor below, his paws sinking into the soft coldness of the snow. Without so much as a glance behind him, he ran into the night.
He would do as Cordelia had said. He would get as far away as he could to make certain the channel closed. And afterwards …
Cordelia would figure out how to help Skye. She had to. But Jason couldn’t sit around leaving Skye’s safety and the health and wellbeing of Pack McVale up to Cordy. He would return home tomorrow and read through their Pack Witch Diaries. Maybe there would be a clue there as to what to do. He also had to figure out who had taken Skye and why they had done this to her—and to his pack.
Whoever they were, they would have to be incredibly powerful to have shrouded her from the McClunes’ Pack Witches all these years. He had to be careful, but that didn’t mean he had to cower in the dark at the mercy of their evil.
He had to find a way forward. For pack, of course, but also for himself.
The wolf growled in agreement.
She was his, and one day soon she would know it. She’d have to know it. Because without her at his side, life wouldn’t be worth living.
Chapter 5
Skye felt terrible when she woke the next morning. Bron fussed over her as she dragged her aching self out of bed to pack.
‘Sit down before you fall down and let me do that.’
‘I’m fine,’ Skye insisted, snatching her toiletries bag back from Bron.
‘You’re not fine. Is she, Shelley? Your aura is all muddy. I think you might have hit your head or something yesterday. Please, sit down and let us take a look.’
Annoyed with all the fussing, and in an effort to just shut her friend up—her head thumped with every word said—she snapped, ‘I didn’t hit my head. It’s just because I got angry yesterday and my power spurted out a bit and then the suppression spell hit me and that’s why I feel so crappy.’
Bron gaped and looked at Shelley. ‘Did you know about this?’
Shelley didn’t answer, just continued to pack, but Bron took the lack of answer as a yes.
‘And you didn’t tell me?’
Skye defended her friend. ‘I asked her not to say anything because I didn’t want you to carry on about it.’
Bron frowned. ‘Well … I can’t say I’m not feeling a little hurt but—hang on.’ She crossed her arms. ‘That explains why you were feeling so bad last night, but you still shouldn’t be feeling like that now unless you used your magic again.’
‘I didn’t.’ Skye looked away, ignoring the flash of memory of her tumble in bed with Jason, power flaring from her into him, creating a bright, golden-rainbow nimbus to surround him. That hadn’t been real. It couldn’t be. She couldn’t have done that—she didn’t know how to use her power like that. Besides, one-night stands were not her style. And it all had a hazy aspect to it, like she hadn’t been in control of herself. Exactly like what happened to her in her dreams.
So it had to be a dream. ‘I didn’t use my power again,’ she reiterated when Bron continued to stare at her.
‘Then explain why you’re so sick.’
Skye swallowed hard, scrabbling for a reason, any reason, that didn’t have anything to do with magic. ‘It might be a little self-inflicted. When I got up to eat something last night, one of the other guests sat down with me and we shared a bottle of wine and I think maybe I drank too much.’
‘You what?’ Bron shouted. Skye winced. ‘Don’t tell me you were stupid enough to drink wine on top of those tablets Shells gave you?’
‘I think maybe I was exactly that stupid.’ She stopped, looked up. ‘Could drinking that wine on top of the tablets have caused me to hallucinate?’
Bron’s eyes widened. ‘Yes. You could have really tripped out. Did you?’
Skye twisted her mouth. ‘I think so.’ It would certainly explain the erotic dream and the impression she’d used her magic. Not to mention the image of the silver and gold wolf standing in the room watching her, its lightning-shot blue eyes glowing in the dark. She shuddered. Apart from the mind-blowing sex in the dream, the rest had been somewhere in the vicinity of her worst nightmare.
‘You didn’t go anywhere, did you? Do anything you wouldn’t normally do?’
Skye shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. I don’t remember much after having a few drinks. I think maybe the guy I was drinking with carried me back here.’ She had a hazy memory of him tucking her into bed. God! She hoped she hadn’t passed out or thrown up or done anything equally embarrassing. ‘I think I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. But I had some pretty disturbing dreams.’
Bron sighed heavily. ‘Goddess, Skye. It’s no wonder you’re as sick as a dog this morning. In fact, it’s a wonder you’re not a whole lot worse.’
Shelley chuckled as she folded a blanket and placed it on the bed. ‘I think that’s the pot calling the kettle black, Bron. Give her a break.’
‘But it’s so refreshing not being the irresponsible one.’
‘Do you mind not shouting? My head’s about to split in half.’
Bron dropped down beside Skye. ‘I’m sorry. Shells is right. I know how you feel. It’s just … Please don’t hide things from me. I don’t like it.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Skye murmured.
‘I know.’ Bron gave her a gentle hug and took the clothes that Skye had been trying to stuff into her bag. ‘I’ll do that. You go and ring for the taxi and Shells and I will finish packing.’
Skye whispered, ‘Thanks,’ then limped upstairs to find enough reception for her mobile and ordered a taxi. Feeling utterly achy and miserable and wanting nothing more than to sink into the chairs in the foyer, she made herself head back to the stairs to help bring their gear up. Shelley and Bron were already coming up with the bags, and they dumped them by the front door and ordered her to stand guard.
A few minutes later, the taxi arrived and Skye dragged he
r bag out to it, feeling as if she was walking through air that had suddenly become ten times as thick as usual. After handing her bag up, she turned back to get another one, but Shelley hustled her into the taxi, where she sat with a heavy sigh. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this ill.
‘Where to?’ the driver asked.
‘Andrews Car Park,’ Shelley said, handing him the taxi receipts. He nodded and they set off.
As they drove away from the lodge, a flash of grey caught Skye’s attention. Turning, she saw the grey wolf-dog she’d seen yesterday standing in the shadows of the trees. It seemed to be watching them.
‘Look. There’s that wolf-dog I told you about yesterday.’
‘Where?’ Shelley asked, craning around to see where Skye was pointing.
‘Just there …’ It had gone.
The taxi swung out onto Goal Post Road and she lost sight of the lodge. ‘I swore I saw it.’
‘Probably another hallucination from mixing drugs and alcohol,’ Bron said, her lips twitching. Shelley hit her.
Skye turned to face forward and shook her head, but stopped when the thumping upped its tempo. ‘Why do I have to hallucinate about terrifying, wolf-like dogs, while other people hallucinate flowers and faeries?’
Bron turned, the brightly interested glow in her eyes making Skye want to crawl into a corner and hide. ‘Must be something in your psyche trying to come out. Do you want to come and do a hypnotherapy session with me? We could figure out where your fear of dogs comes from.’
Skye shuddered. ‘No thanks. I know where it comes from.’
Bron shook her head. ‘But the dog that attacked you didn’t even bite you. I think your fear stems from something much deeper.’
‘Bron.’ Shelley put her hand on Bron’s arm, her gaze on Skye’s face. ‘She’s not up for soul searching today. Keep it for when she’s feeling better.’
Bron’s eyes flickered down to Skye’s hands and back again—Shelley must have told Bron exactly what had happened, Skye surmised, wincing inside, waiting for the flood of questions coming her way.
Instead, Bron said, ‘You’re right. Sorry. I just want you to feel better.’
Skye nodded, relief flooding through her. ‘So do I.’
‘You should sleep in the car,’ Shelley said as the taxi pulled into Andrews Car Park.
‘Oh, my Goddess. Look at all the snow!’ Bron leapt out of the taxi and began to attack the snow heaped on their four-wheel drive while Skye and Shelley unpacked their bags from the taxi and thanked the driver.
It took them half an hour to dig the car out before they could pack their bags into it and leave. Exhausted, her muscles aching, Skye dropped into the back seat and closed her eyes. Shelley was right. She would try to sleep on the drive home.
The sway of the car as they wove down the mountain, Bron’s voice in the background as she chatted and sang to the song on the radio, all comforting and familiar, lulled her into sleep. She snuggled her head against the pillow she’d made of her coat and sighed as Jason walked into her dream, his lips cocked in that lopsided smile that had charmed her the night before.
His gaze fixed on her. ‘Come with me?’ He held his hand out.
She nodded, placed her hand in his.
Suddenly, she was lying on a bed, writhing, her skin sweat-covered and tingling as he ran his hands down her sides, over her breasts, between her legs. He was naked, the tip of his erection sliding over her cleft.
‘Please,’ she begged, the tease too much to bear.
He pushed himself inside her in one hard thrust that spilled her over the edge. As she spiralled through her orgasm, screaming his name, his eyes locked on hers and he said, ‘You’re mine,’ and pushed into her, again and again.
As her body clenched around him, magic sparked between them; it sparked in her fingers, burning under her skin, longing to get out and do—
‘Wake up, sleepy head.’
Skye jerked, sitting up with a gasp.
‘Are you okay?’ Bron was standing at the side of the car, the door open, her forehead furrowed. ‘You look terrible. Worse than before.’
Skye tried to breathe past the panic in her chest. ‘I’m fine. Just a bad dream.’ She stood up, her boots crunching on the pebbled drive, and almost fell over when her ankle protested.
‘You need to go and put that foot up,’ Shelley said. ‘Put some ice on it if it’s still that bad.’
Skye would have nodded, but she thought if she moved her head it might explode. ‘I’ll just help get the bags in first.’ She bent to pick up one of the bags Shelley had dumped out of the boot. Dizziness overwhelmed her and she staggered into the mud-splattered back of the car.
Shelley snatched the bag out of her hand. ‘Honestly. Go inside and get in bed. I’ll get all this in.’
‘But you have to go to work.’
‘Not for another couple of hours. I have time if only you don’t fall over and crack your head open.’ She gestured to Bron. ‘Make sure she gets in bed and look at her foot again.’
‘Sure will. I’ll also get her something to eat. She’s not eaten since last night, which could be part of the problem.’
‘Worrywart,’ Skye protested as Bron put her arm around her waist and ushered her forward. ‘I can walk without help.’ She might as well have been talking in a different language for all the good it did. Despite her short stature, Bron was strong. She swept Skye up the stairs, down the hall and into her bedroom, where she pulled out pyjamas, thrust them at Skye and with a rather bossy, ‘Get changed. I’ll be right back,’ was out the door again before Skye had a chance to blink.
A few minutes later, the door opened and Bron’s shadow fell over her.
‘Here, drink this.’
Skye lifted her hand from her eyes and saw her friend holding out a steaming mug. ‘Oh, you angel. Coffee?’
‘No. Herbal tea.’
Skye shook her head, even though that made the pain worse. ‘No thanks. You know I don’t believe in that stuff. I’d prefer something with codeine and paracetamol.’
‘This is better. Your aura is all kind of hazy and muddy. This will help cleanse it.’
Skye frowned belligerently and shook her head at the proffered cup.
Bron sighed. ‘It will also stop that headache from splitting your skull open and rehydrate you.’ She paused and flashed Skye a smile. ‘Don’t you trust me?’
‘You play dirty.’ Skye put out a shaky hand and took the mug. Wincing at the bitter taste, she swallowed. ‘You could have put some sugar in it.’
‘That would negate the efficacy of the herbs.’
Skye peered at her friend suspiciously. ‘How do they work?’
‘I’ve used valerian, skullcap, lemon balm and passion flower and steeped them in chamomile tea. They have sedative and antispasmodic effects and the chamomile is a muscle relaxant. It’s all quite sciency, not magical. Now, stop bitching at me and drink your tea like a good girl while I go and get you something to eat.’
Skye sipped the tea, wincing at the taste. The things she did for her friends!
She’d finished the tea and was in the process of climbing into bed when Bron swept back in with a tray.
‘Eat,’ she ordered, then began placing scented candles around the room.
‘What are they for?’ Skye asked, swallowing some soup, thankful that it tasted much better than the tea.
‘These are lavender, chamomile and rose. They’ll clear your aura and help you sleep.’
Skye didn’t comment, not wanting to get into a discussion about her aura again. ‘Thanks, Bron.’ She took a bite of the roll, groaning in appreciation as the flavour of butter and fresh bread filled her mouth.
‘Yeah, well, just don’t tell Shelley about the butter and we won’t have any problems.’
Skye held up her fingers. ‘I promise not to tell the health nut. Scout’s honour.’
Bron chuckled and grabbed her fingers, giving them a shake. ‘You were never a scout.’<
br />
Skye shook her head. ‘I wanted to be, but Morrigan didn’t think it appropriate.’ She sighed then took in a deep breath. The candles smelled nice, but she still had no energy. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt so low.
Bron sat on the bed and touched her arm, smiling; a smile that warmed a person from the inside out.
‘Oh, I didn’t get to tell you about last night. Our date with Adam.’
‘Adam?’
‘The hot guy from the lift.’
‘You mean the “free-pass” one?’
Bron blushed. ‘Yeah. Him. He took us out last night as promised, except his brother didn’t come with us. We went to Snow Pony and had some gluhwein and dinner and then went to the Arlberg for the karaoke night. He has a pretty amazing voice.’
‘So you really liked him?’
‘Yeah. But despite being super hot, he’s not the dream guy—more’s the pity.’
Skye frowned. Bron had this strange thing about seeing the guy she was going to be with in a dream. It was apparently a family thing. Her grandma and great-grandma had dreamed of their husbands, and when Bron had a similar dream as a teenager, she vowed he was the guy. And there was no talking her out of it.
‘But what about just having some fun with him? You haven’t had a problem doing that in the past, despite other men not being the dream guy.’
‘Yeah, maybe.’
‘What do you mean, maybe? I thought he was your free-pass guy.’
‘I mean, he’s hot and everything and his eyes …’ She blew out a breath. ‘I always thought blue eyes were my thing, you know, like Daniel Craig’s eyes. But Adam’s eyes,’ she sighed. ‘I could get lost in them. They were so warm and glowing, like pools of deepest amber. But despite him being incredibly sexy, we just had a really good time. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so much. I’m not sure sex is on the cards for us. I think we’re just meant to be really good friends.’
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